How Much More
by Okaeri-Kairi
Summary: Chrobin Week Day 2: Grima doesn't understand why she's let him live. He's useless, not even good material for a servant. But she can't do it, she can't kill him, though she's tried countless times. There's something about his clear blue eyes that reminds her of something important she thought she'd abandoned long ago.


**A series of short stories for Chrobin Week 2016. Each story is inspired by and titled with a line from a different song by a different artist.**

 **Day 2: Branded & Marked**

 **Song: How Much More by Stars**

* * *

The woman stands alone in a field strewed with the dead. She doesn't move, just takes a slow, deep breath, savoring the rich smell of blood in the air. It's an intoxicating scent, sharp as iron and still fresh. She looks down and sees that her hands are covered in gore. She inspects her palms, half-interested, and licks the blood from her fingers with relish.

It's been a while since anyone was stupid enough to come looking for her. She thought she'd eradicated all the humans in the area, but she supposes a few may have avoided her attention. They must have thought a surprise attack would be enough to take her down. They learned their lesson the hard way.

She kicks aside a corpse, looking down at the victim's face with mild curiosity. It's a girl, hardly older than a child, and there's blood dripping from her open mouth. She looks familiar for some reason, though Grima could care less. Humans mean nothing to her anymore; that part of her is gone now. She may dwell in a human body, but only because she requires a vessel. If she had a choice, she would have left it long ago.

She moves on, but something on the ground catches her eye. There's something shining there, at her feet, and Grima stoops to pick it up.

It's a ring, made of silver. Grima turns it over in her hands and the light catches a faint engraving on the inside. It's been worn away, probably from use, but she can still just make out the words.

 _Cord. et Stahl_.

"Ah," Grima says softly to herself. That's why the child was so familiar; that red hair can only have come from Cordelia. "Foolish girl," she scoffs, meaning to drop the ring and move on. But when she opens her hand, she finds she's still clinging to it.

 _It's just a useless human memento. Why would I want it?_ she thinks, but still, she can't throw it away.

She stares at it for a moment, then pockets it.

She had a ring like that, once. A long time ago, when she still went by another name.

* * *

 **He was awkward, not at all like a prince should be. It took him ages to get to the point, and when he did, it was still the most roundabout conversation Robin had ever had.**

 **"Pr-prepare yourself, I'm going to say it!"**

 **"So just say it already!" she exclaimed, her heart pounding in her chest. "You can't leave me hanging after saying something like that!"**

 **"A-alright... Here goes... Robin... I'm in love with you."**

 **Robin suddenly had trouble breathing.**

 **"...O-oh." Her heart ached, and she felt like crying. She didn't know it was possible to feel so many things at once.**

 **"I know it's sudden, but I've loved you for a long time..."**

 **"Chrom, stop, we can't-"**

 **"I know it's improper; you're my tactician, but I can't help the way I feel."**

 **"Please Chrom, you're making this harder for both of us," she said, closing her eyes tightly. "We can't, we're at war."**

 **"Then... what about once we've won?"**

 **She looked up at him. He was red as a beet, but his eyes were saddened at her vehement rejection.**

 **"I understand if you don't want to, of course," he added hurriedly, waving his hands. "But, if you feel the same way, even just a little, would you at least... consider it?"**

 **"Chrom..."**

 **"Please, just think about it." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a silver ring. "Take it, it's yours. You can do whatever you like with it. Sell it if you want. But promise me you won't until we've won this war. You can give me your answer then," he said, and before she could argue, he took her hand and pressed the ring into her palm.**

 **He left her standing there, clutching the ring to her chest and feeling like a whirlwind of emotions had ravaged her heart.**

* * *

The wind blows strongly, buffeting Grima's red hair across her face. Though she's been called a god, the weather isn't something she can control, exactly. She can make it overcast, she can blot out the sun, but everything else is up to nature. Still, such mundane things don't bother her. She doesn't feel the cold like her human self did.

The ruins are as foreboding as ever. It's been many years since these piles of dilapidated stone and wood could be called a castle, though Grima has memories of a time when it still stood proud as the center of Ylisstol. She likes it much better this way.

"Mother!"

Grima grits her teeth. She'd half-hoped that it would have left while she was gone, but of course it hasn't. It's still there, with that stupid, eager look on its face, climbing over a pile of rubble to greet her.

"Mother, welcome back!"

"I told you not to call me that," Grima hisses, but the child pays no notice. He comes right up to her and takes her hand, bold as ever. If it were anyone else, Grima would have blasted a hole through him before he could lay his dirty hands on her. If it were anyone else, she would have never let him stay. But it isn't anyone else, and Grima hasn't been able to get rid of him for years.

"Did you bring me something, Mother?" he asks, his blue eyes wide and expectant. Grima sighs and pulls a hefty slice of bread from her pocket; she took it from one of the corpses in the prairie. She rips off a hunk and tosses it to him, and he catches it with delight, digging in immediately. Grima sits on a low wall, imagining all the ways she might kill him if she could just make herself do it. She's tired of playing house with him; he's no more useful than a stray dog, brand or no brand.

* * *

 **Time seemed to race by. Days, weeks, months... But Chrom kept his promise. He didn't bring it up at all, didn't ask if she'd changed the way she felt. It made Robin feel anxious; she wondered if maybe he hadn't forgotten, or changed his mind. She wondered if she shouldn't have said yes, like he so obviously wished she had.**

 **Like she so obviously wanted to.**

 **She put his ring on a chain and wore it around her neck. No one could see it under her coat, but she could feel it pressed against her heart. If she died in battle, she wanted to be found with it, so that he would know that she returned his feelings, even if she lost the opportunity to tell him directly.**

 **But the closer they got to the end, the more Robin feared not telling him the truth. She'd long accepted the possibility of her own death, but she couldn't bear the thought of losing** ** _him_** **, especially not before she could tell him how she felt. She refused to let that become a possibility.**

 **"Chrom..."**

 **"Robin! What is it? It's late." He was reading a book at his table, the candle already melted halfway.**

 **"There's something I want to talk about..."**

 **She didn't go back to her tent that night.**

* * *

The child has fallen asleep in one of the rooms that isn't as badly damaged. He's thrown himself on the stone floor with nothing but a ragged blanket, and Grima has to fight the urge to pick him up and put him on the old mattress instead.

 _What do I care if the little creature is comfortable?_ she thinks coldly, and turns away from him. She places the rest of the bread on the table and pulls her coat on. There's no point in staying now that the boy is fed, so she might as well leave. She reaches into her pocket absentmindedly and her fingers brush against the ring. She's almost forgotten about it. She pulls it out and holds it up to the faint light.

 _What ever happened to my ring?_ she wonders. Almost immediately, she shakes her head. _No, I'm confusing myself for the other one._

She turns to put Cordelia's ring on the table as well, but she catches a flash of blue from the corner of her eye.

 _Ch-Chrom?!_

It's not him. It's only the boy; he's shifted in his sleep, his hair catching the light. Grima chides herself for being so stupid.

 _Of course it's not Chrom. Chrom is long dead._

But as she leaves the room, there's a painful knot in her throat that refuses to go away.

* * *

 **Robin traced her fingers over the Brand on his shoulder.**

 **"Is it that interesting?" he asked, stifling a yawn. He was lying on his stomach, blinking sleepily at her.**

 **"Mmm, you say it's not a tattoo?" she asked, resting her cheek on her palm.**

 **"No, I was born with it. Everyone in the royal family has one; except for Lissa."**

 **"How come?"**

 **"Sometimes it just doesn't show up. It happens. Why are you so interested?"**

 **"No reason really. I just assumed it was a tattoo when I first saw it, like mine." She held up her left hand so he could see the reddish mark on the back.**

 **"Hmm, well I don't know what that's supposed to be."**

 **"Neither do I," she said, shrugging. "Amnesia, remember?" She grinned at the bad joke.**

 **"Haha, funny." He sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'd rather remember this instead," he said, pressing his lips to the nape of her neck.**

 **"Again?" she teased, pushing him away playfully. "I thought you said you were tired?"**

 **"I was, but not anymore," he said seriously. "How could I stay tired when you're still here?"**

 **"But I already told you I wasn't going anywhere," she said, shivering as he ran his fingers down her back.**

 **"I know." She quickly lost count of how many times he kissed her.**

* * *

Grima had intended to leave the ruin, but something is keeping her there. She wanders through the halls, touching broken balustrades, looking at half-rotting paintings on the walls, lost in thoughts she wasn't aware she still possessed.

After some time, she reaches the throne room. The ornate chairs are falling apart, the carpet at her feet dirty and ragged.

 _This is where they got married,_ she recalls. It was shortly after the war that Chrom brought Robin home and wed her in this very room. It had been a small ceremony, but the entire halidom celebrated the king's wedding for days. Grima recalls her other self dancing down this length of carpet, recalls laughing and drinking with Robin's friends until everyone was so tipsy that they could barely stand at all. She remembers Chrom, his smile bright, using any excuse to hold Robin's hand or kiss her cheek.

They'd lived in this castle for a few years, before war broke out again. Lucina was born here, and raised here, though Robin herself never had a chance to see that. Grima did, though the girl was spirited from the castle by her caretakers before she could be rid of her.

She's reached the thrones themselves. Only the queen's seat is still intact, and Grima sits down, looking down at the ruined hall below her.

This is her own throne, but it seems somehow lonelier than she remembers.

* * *

 **"CHROM!"**

 **She fell to her knees at his side, trembling. The wound was terrible; a large, gaping hole through his abdomen.**

 **"Ro-Ro...bin..."**

 **"No, Chrom! Don't speak! Y-you'll be alright, I promise!" She was hyperventilating, her cheeks wet with tears.**

 **"Ro...bin... don't... cry... it's not... not your... fault," he stuttered. He reached his hand toward her face, but he seemed to be having trouble judging the distance. Robin took it and held it tightly.**

 **"Chrom, don't leave me, please, please don't go!" she cried, pressing her lips to his hand. "I'm so sorry, I never meant-"**

 **"I... know... I know it... wasn't... love..." The words died on his lips and his eyes lost their shine. They would never again hold her gaze.**

 **Robin screamed, but the sound that came from her mouth was more akin to laughter than grief.**

 _ **I've won, foolish girl. I am the Fell Dragon Grima, and you have lost.**_

* * *

 **That was her greatest triumph... but Grima had made a miscalculation. She'd meant to take over from there, to finally take the girl's body, her vessel, for her own designs. But Robin, though lost in grief for some time, was not done fighting.**

 **Not long after Chrom's death, Robin somehow gathered her strength and regained control, and Grima was forced to return to her subconscious for some time. She was completely unaware of what her other self was doing until suddenly, without warning, she was back.**

 **It was such a shock that Grima didn't immediately register the state of Robin's body or her surroundings. But a moment later a horrible, piercing wail went through her eardrums like lightning and she felt a terrible aching pain all over her body.**

 ** _What in the-?!_**

 **She was covered in blood, and something else, something wet and slimy and unpleasant. From the look of it, she was in a hut somewhere, alone, and the source of the sound was a newborn infant, bloodied and still attached to its umbilical cord.**

 ** _That woman!_** **Grima had had no idea that Robin had been pregnant at all, but this was undoubtedly Chrom's child; its hair was the same shade of blue. On the back of one tiny hand, Naga's brand was visible.**

 ** _HOW DARE SHE HIDE THIS FROM ME?!_** **she thought, raising her hand to kill the disgusting creature where it lay. But before she could utter the incantation, something else caught her eye; though one of its hands was Branded, the other was Marked.**

 **That was a shock. Lucina had been born with only a Brand, as normal. It was impossible for one person to carry the blessings of two gods, and yet here was Robin's second child, unmistakably branded by both herself and Naga.**

 ** _What does this mean?!_**

 ** _"I don't... know... but it means...it means... you can't hurt him."_** **Robin's voice was still there, in the back of Grima's mind. But though she was clearly using every last ounce of her remaining strength to stay conscious, her voice was fading fast.** ** _"Even if I... disappear here, I won't... ever... let you hurt... him."_**

 ** _Hah, you truly think I can't kill him when it pleases me?!_**

 ** _"You won't... lay... a finger... on Morgan... I won't... let you..."_** **But her energy was spent, and Grima was finally rid of the woman, for good.**

* * *

However, Robin spoke true. Grima has tried everything to kill or abandon the boy, but she physically cannot. Something drives her to keep him near, to care for him and raise him, though she can't stand even looking at him. He's the spitting image of Chrom, and it fills her with rage and hate to be unable to end his pitiful little life.

She contents herself with hoping that one day she might use him. Surely he hasn't been Marked for nothing; when he's old enough, perhaps he'll help her destroy the last bits of resistance still lingering in the world. Lucina is still alive somewhere, and Grima can't think of a better revenge against Robin's curse than to have her children, Chrom's beloved children, fight each other to the death. Until then, she'll play Robin's perverse game; she'll play mother to the boy, but only until she's made him into a tool worthy of Grima's name.

 _I refuse to let that woman have her way._

"Mother..."

She's pulled from her thoughts to see the child, Morgan, standing at her knee. He must have woken up at some point and come looking for her.

"What do you want?" she asks, annoyed.

"You left this," he says, and holds up the silver ring.

"It's not mine," she says curtly.

"But-"

"Leave it, it's worthless," she said sharply.

Morgan looks at the ring and back at his mother again, but she cuts him off before he can ask a question.

"Come, we're going." She stands up and holds out her hand for him, a stiff, brusque gesture. But though she doesn't want to even look at him, the moment when those small fingers wrap around her own is comforting. She finds she wants to pick him up and bury her face in that familiar, soft hair...

But she won't. Those feelings aren't hers, she doesn't want them. Though Robin is gone, they just won't disappear. It's as if her ghost still lurks somewhere within their shared body, still trying to remember.

 _How much more of this torment will she inflict on me?_ she thinks angrily. Grima doesn't understand why the emotions won't fade, no matter how much time passes. Chrom is dead, after all, and Robin is little more than a memory. So why is everything still so vivid?

Why can't she forget him?

* * *

Morgan takes his mother's hand, but though she ordered him to, he doesn't let go of the ring. He found it on the ground, not far from him, when he woke up. He's never seen anything so pretty. It's made of silver and shines brightly in the light.

If he could read, he'd probably be interested to know that two initials are carved on the inside. He'd probably want to hear the stories of the two people who exchanged this ring and its brother, and he'd ask what happened to them, why they abandoned such an important memento.

But Morgan hasn't been taught how to read, so he doesn't realize that the ring is engraved for _C & R. _He doesn't know that his mother, his real mother, lost it in that room many years ago, when she came to search for Lucina. He doesn't, and never will know, that _C & R _stands for more than just his parents' names, or that the bond they shared is what protects him from the wrath of the woman who has raised him, the woman who was once his mother, and who still is, somewhere deep inside.

What Morgan does know is that he likes the ring, so he decides to keep it. He slips it into his pocket and lets his mother lead him away.

* * *

 _ **"Is this the story or is this the end?**_

 _ **I always kill your shadow but here we are again."**_

 ** _"My hands are tied because I can't say goodbye_**

 _ **I tried... I told you I was brave but I lied."**_


End file.
